


restoring pre-war relics

by scaredybear



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/F, Fluff everywhere, Implied Relationships, SO MUCH FLUFF, established relationships - Freeform, fluff all over, wherein the ss is a giant awkward weenie hut jr and she still gets nervous around pretty girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:05:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaredybear/pseuds/scaredybear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blue restores a typewriter for Piper. It's more awkward than it should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	restoring pre-war relics

**Author's Note:**

> [politeyeti](politeyeti.tumblr.com) over on tumblr gave me this prompt. I was more than happy to go to town with it! Drop by my [tumblr ](scaredybear.tumblr.com)and feel free to give me a prompt yourself!

The typewriter took a week and a mountain of patience to restore. The frankenstein thing was the amalgamation of a dozen other siblings Blue had tore apart piecemeal and threw together hoping they’d work. 

It took another week to figure out why the paper wasn’t feeding properly into the paper bail (Blue put it on backwards, plus that wasn’t where you put the paper after all; Codsworth informed her quite matter-of-factly that the paper went between the platen and the table, whatever the fuck that was), or why the carriage return lever didn’t want to cooperate (nothing wonderglue couldn’t fix, apparently). Some of the keys stuck, and if you looked closely enough you’d realize that the Z was a sideways N and the M was really a W but Blue was insufferably proud with her handiwork.

God, she hoped Piper liked it.

A part of her was worried Piper wouldn’t, that she wouldn’t see the point in it what with her terminal that she used to write the rough drafts on. But it would have to do until Blue figured out how to make a printing press–that was next on the to-do list.

So she packed up the typewriter, even made a lopsided bow out of some cutesy fabric she bought from Carla, and set off for Diamond City with Dogmeat following after her.

********  
The walk to Diamond City passes without much fuss, though Dogmeat insisted on chasing a mole rat or two or seven. Blue hesitates on the doorstep of Publick Occurrences, and finally knocks a few seconds later. She feels silly for being so nervous about a typewriter, and gives Dogmeat a pat for courage.

Piper answers the door with confusion written plain across her face, perhaps unused to the fact anyone would knock, much less pay her a visit. Her features brightens when she realizes who it is, however. “If it isn’t my favourite pre-war relic,” 

Dogmeat barks softly from where he sits, even managing to sound insulted at being overlooked. “and her sidekick.” She leans over to ruffle Dogmeat’s face, and his tail whips side-to-side quite happily from the attention. 

“You don’t need to knock, you know.” Piper reminds her, straightening up.

“It’s too awkward to randomly walk into your home, Piper.”

She sighs at Blue’s response, and waves them both in. The door closes with a faint click. Dogmeat wastes no time in making himself comfortable on the couch–Piper doesn’t seem to mind. Nat isn’t inside; Blue assumes she’s at the schoolhouse just past the noodle shop. 

“What brings you back to the Great Green Jewel?” She enunciates the last three words with forced reverence, much like on the day Blue met her.

“I’ve got something for you, actually.”

The notion seems to strike Piper as rather surprising, as if no one would think of giving her a gift. “If you managed to fit a printing press in that bag…” She trails off.

“Well, no.” Blue shifts uncomfortably, the weight of the typewriter in her backpack a reminder.

She slides the typewriter out of her backpack, sits it on a breeze block just under the stairs leading to Piper’s room. Blue busies herself with adjusting the bow on it its face because she’s too nervous to really look at Piper, but Piper slides up beside her and makes it incredibly hard to focus on the pattern of space rockets and moon monkeys.

“Did… did you make this yourself?” Her voice is low and quiet. She fiddles with the bow, taps a key–the sideways N that’s pretending to be Z–gives Blue a quick glance.

And Blue nods, swallows hard and feels like shes nine again, trying to impress a girl on the schoolyard by how high she can swing. Except this time its a thousand times worse because she’s almost thirty and there’s no swings, just a frakenstein typewriter and an impossibly cute reporter.

“I figured if anyone would appreciate this it’d be you, right? And I pass these things all the time, so I kept thinking to myself ‘I should really fix one of these things up, Piper would like it’,–”

“Blue, you’re rambling.” She says it not unkindly.

“–so I made you this typewriter and it took me a week to get it working right–”

“Blue.”

“–and I’m not sure if you’ll have much use for it but I thought–”

“Blue.”

She shut up.

Amusement dances in Piper’s hazel eyes, though it’s the smile that really grabs Blue’s attention. “I love it,” She closes the distance and caresses her cheek. “So stop fretting so much, okay?” Then she kisses her, sweet and slow and gentle.

When they break away, the wry smile returns to Piper’s face. "But I’ve got to ask: since when did you get so handy?“ 

Blue shrugs, knowing full well she wouldn’t have been able to make it without Codsworth’s (sort of condescending) assistance.

"You don’t want to see the graveyard of typewriters I have back at Sanctuary.” She deadpans her voice, all seriousness, and Piper laughs.

Piper thinks she’s joking but she’s not.


End file.
